


Wayward

by Viridian5



Category: due South
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-04-17
Updated: 2000-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser has been successful at resisting temptation for some time now, but he just hasn't met the right temptation yet....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayward

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Latonya for some suggestions on getting this past the snippet stage. The boys took it from there. Thanks to Kasha for support.

A sudden whistle cutting through the air made me look up from the papers scattered across Ray's desk. I heard Detective Dewey shout, "You're beautiful, Ray!"

"Can it, Dewey," Ray snapped back, more reflexively irritable before his morning coffee.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. Ray had removed his coat to reveal what he wore underneath, a black turtleneck sweater along with his usual blue jeans. But not just any black turtleneck. Form-fitting, soft....

Ray Vecchio had occasionally worn something similar, and it had been quite flattering on him. But on my Ray, it went far beyond flattering into irresistible. He looked sleeker than usual and compulsively pettable. Suddenly it didn't matter that we stood in a police station in public; I had to stroke him. Right now. To be completely honest, I had to stroke him, then ravish him.

Dewey continued to verbally jab at my partner, who took it with ill grace and increasing self-consciousness. "What? I'm not allowed to have any nice things?" Ray asked.

I had to get him away or distracted from the teasing before Ray went into a full prickly defensive posture, porcupine-style. Upset, the quills would come up, making it hard to get close to him without getting bloodied in his sharp verbal shows of temper.

And I had to think of things becoming erect, didn't I?

"Ray, can I see you in the supply closet?" I asked. It had to be someplace private. Someplace I could-- No, I would not.

"I'm busy," he muttered, unable to read me at all in his upset.

"Perhaps the men's room?"

"I'm _busy_. Changing the rendezvous place isn't gonna make me any less busy."

This would not do at all. I took Ray by the forearm and pulled him out of the room. The turtleneck sweater, soft over the firm muscle of his arm, felt as plush and welcoming beneath my fingers as I'd expected. He dug in his heels only a little, just a token show of being under duress. We ignored Dewey's protests and offers of a date.

Once out of sight of the squadroom, Ray leaned against the wall and said, "I'm gonna go home and change. I don't need to deal with this all day." He refused to move any further with me.

"You have to admit that it's an uncharacteristic look for you," I said, somehow maintaining control over my fingertips. They wanted to go wayward in the worst way. "Yet very flattering."

"Yeah?"

"Beyond a doubt."

"You're not just saying that."

"It's less flattering when you're fishing for compliments."

"Sorry. I'm used to the kidding, not the compliments."

That had to be rectified. In the meantime, I tried to distract him from that line of thinking. "How did you come to acquire it?"

"I was just walking by when it called to me. 'Stroke me, Ray. See how soft I am.' It was, too. Soft, y'know?" Ray stroked the hem of the turtleneck now, seemingly unconscious of his own gesture and of how painfully conscious of it I was. "When a salesman saw how I was feeling it up, he asked me to make a commitment." Ray grinned. "Told me it wasn't right for me to be groping it like that otherwise. Whoa!" Ray jumped, nearly into my arms.

To my disappointment, not nearly close enough.

He fumbled with his belt until he had his cell phone in his hand. "Damned thing vibrates stronger than the last one.... Vecchio! Yeah. Yeah? Be right over. Keep me posted if he moves." All but sparking with excitement, Ray grinned. "One of my snitches just saw Dino Sibani and some of his thugs. My fashion emergency has to wait." As we walked back into the squadroom--or, rather, I walked quickly and Ray nearly flew--Ray yelled to the leftenant, "Someone dropped a dime on Sibani. We're on our way out."

"Take Huey and Dewey with you."

"No way! This one's mine!"

"He's slipped through our fingers before. Take them."

Ray sighed. "Yes, sir." He grabbed his coat and mine before he turned to Huey and Dewey. "And I don't wanna hear anything out of you that's not Sibani-related, got it, Dewey?"

"Hey, Ray, what do you think Sibani will think of your pretty, new turtleneck?"

If I enjoyed grabbing Ray to prevent him from murdering Detective Dewey, surely it could be forgiven for the way I saved a life in the process.

  


* * *

For the next few hours I performed efficiently. At least I hoped I did, because I couldn't be certain that my inner distraction did not show in my face or work. In the car on the drive over, that bit of turtleneck visible at his wrists and neck where his coat ended kept drawing my attention, begging for my touch. I fought the urge to put my arm over his shoulders, my hand at his wrist. The chase, brief gun battle, capture of the miscreants, and seizure of a sizable stash of crack cocaine diverted me, as well they should, but only temporarily. Filing our reports at the station left me far too much time to return to the day's obsession.

I tried to concentrate solely on Ray's merits as an officer of the law and the masterful way he'd handled the criminals, but those thoughts led to memories of his grace in movement, of how brightly his happiness had beamed from him as we made our capture, of how much I wanted to touch him.... I fought this battle constantly, but today my wants, bolstered by a simple item of clothing, threatened to best me.

I, an unofficial part of the police department, finished first, allowing me to observe from a distance as Ray went over the arrest again. I watched his gleaming eyes, mobile mouth, and dancing hands as he spoke, admired the way the soft black sheathing his upper body enhanced his natural visual appeal. The more faded black of his holster's leather straps and the silver shine of the star on his badge only seemed to more positively accent that inviting, touchable sheathe. His interview stretched on into the evening.

Finally finished, he walked up to me and smiled, blazing with vibrant life. "Hey. Been waiting long?"

"Not really."

"I'm too jazzed to just go home. Wanna go somewhere?"

"Yes." Oh, dear. That had burst out far too quickly.

"Great! Have any suggestions?"

"We could--"

"Ray! Good bust," Detective Huey said. "We want to take you out to celebrate."

I could almost swear that Ray looking slightly annoyed and... disappointed? I must have been reading my own thoughts in his face. He simply asked me, "You good with that?"

Being alone with Ray would only make it harder to resist my need to stroke him like a beloved pet. Then do other things with him one didn't do with one's pets. Well, things ones didn't do unless one was Billy "Long Arm" Stewart, but I'd hardly hold that man up as a model of behavior. "That would be fine."

  


* * *

Dinner turned out to be anything but "fine." In fact, sitting across from Ray like this only strengthened my compulsion. He didn't help by occasionally, unconsciously, stroking his sleeve in small circles, as if he had as much difficulty fighting the allure of that devilish item of clothing as I did. Nor did it help that the day's success had left him manic and excited, an appealing, if barely contained, ball of energy.

I wanted to help him expend that energy.

I had to keep a firm eye on my hands. They kept trying to wander. My efforts kept me distant and distracted from what else went on at the table until Ray snapped, "Bite me, Dewey."

"Oh, _Ray_," Detective Dewey replied in an exaggeratedly soft, husky voice. I felt the uncharacteristic urge to punch him.

"I'm gonna kick you in the head."

"Lay off him already, will you, Tom? It was funny the first hundred times, but now it's starting to get to me too," Detective Huey said.

"He was funny at some point? Must have missed that."

"Perhaps it's time to draw the dinner to a close," I said.

To my relief, Ray said, "Yeah. I'm feeling kinda tired."

I knew him well enough to see that he felt nothing of the sort, but I remained silent. Ray would no doubt reveal his hand soon enough.

  


* * *

I felt unusually awkward standing in Ray's apartment as he closed the door behind me. Fighting my urges had left me little strength or capacity for anything else, such as conversation. I could only imagine how inexplicable Ray must find my behavior. At one point in the hall he caught me dragging my hands back before they could touch his wrist.

Ray put his coat down on the couch, took off his boots, then turned to look at me expectantly, nigh irresistible in his sleek, plush.... I bit my lip hard. He raised an eyebrow. I shook my head. He rolled his eyes.

"You're impossible, ya know that?"

"I don't understand."

"Obviously." Ray walked up to me until we stood so close we breathed the same air. "What do you want to do right now?"

His magnetism pulled at me. I could smell him now--sharp winter air, hair styling products, leather, gunmetal, gunpowder, aftershave, cinnamon gum, tomato sauce, _him_\--but I wanted, needed, to touch him. Worse, now I wanted to taste him as well. Although I managed not to admit to all that, my mouth babbled something almost as inappropriate: "Run. Right now I would really like to run."

He actually growled a little, low in his throat. It made my pulse race. "I swear, Fraser, I'm gonna end up in the loony bin, because you're gonna put me there. Do ya need an engraved invitation, or have I just been reading you wrong all day?"

"Ray?"

Impossibly, he moved in closer. "I want you to touch me."

At first I thought I'd misheard him, just as I'd been reading my own desires into his body language and facial expressions all evening. Then it struck me that I had heard exactly what he'd said. Then it also struck me that perhaps Ray _had_ been sending me signals.

He always did say that I made things harder on myself than they had to be.

No longer.

I pulled him in and let my hands roam freely over his back, while I rubbed my cheek against the neck piece of the turtleneck. As rewarding as I found the softness of the material, which was so plush that it almost seemed to caress my skin in return, I enjoyed the heat and firm body of my partner right under it far more. Especially since my touch coaxed such fascinating purring sounds from him. He all but rubbed against me as I slid my fingers under the straps of his holster and stroked.

Still... I retained some curiosity about the item of clothing that had brought us here. It felt like a cashmere-silk blend, but I wanted to be sure, and Ray certainly seemed to be giving me the liberty to do as I wished, so.... Without ceasing the movement of my stroking left hand, I pulled the neck piece away from his skin with my right to read the interior tag. Ah. As I'd thought.

"Freak," he gasped before he suddenly jerked and choked off a sound.

It seemed to be from me breathing on his skin. I knew I'd found the exact spot again when he jolted and... giggled? "Are you ticklish, Ray?"

"No."

I breathed hotly on that spot again and received the same reaction from him. "Are you certain?" After the torture of the day, it felt good to--how would Ray put it?--get my own in. Besides, I enjoyed playing with Ray.

"Bastard. Not... fair."

"What's not?"

"I showed you mine--"

"Hardly. I discovered your secret by accident."

"--you gotta show me yours. It's fair."

"I don't have any weaknesses."

"Like hell."

Direct application of my lips only strengthened the reaction. He writhed in forced giggles before finally choking out, "I'm... giving you a warning... here. Stop now... or I kick you... in the nuts. I swear..."

I ceased. "I'm finished."

Ray hiccuped, then panted, "Glad I found out about your cruel streak _before_ ya got any from me. Gonna kill you."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist."

"You should be sorry. You will be sorry.... You're gonna get it. Won't know where, won't know when, but it's coming."

I smiled. "Hasn't today been enough?"

"Today.... You thought I wore this as a come-on, to make ya crazy enough to finally jump me?"

"Finally" jump him. It warmed me to think that he'd wanted that for some time. "Of course."

"Well, that would be a great, devious plan. It's just not mine. I liked it, so I bought it and wore it. I didn't realize until we were in the car what it was doing to ya, and only then after my incredible detecting skills figured out why you were staring where you were staring. Now, are ya done torturing me? I'm not getting back in fingers- or mouth-reach until you promise you're done."

"I'm done, Ray."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay then." Ray moved forward again.

I stopped him. "I want to take off my coat so I can feel you better."

He grinned. "I'm good with that."

I took off my coat, but followed it with my Stetson, lanyard, Sam Browne, tunic, and boots as well. Sitting on the arm of the couch, Ray watched it all with enjoyment so obvious on his face, his running commentary so provocative, that I had to resist the urge to strip down all the way. Not yet.

It was, however, interesting to note that he thought my boots were "bad-ass." That might be useful later.

Once he realized the show was over for now, Ray stood and grabbed me. This time, feeling him proved to be no problem at all.

I slid my hands under his turtleneck, wanting to feel hot skin and the cashmere-silk blend at once, but his undershirt stymied me. Seeing my disappointment, Ray grinned and said, "Well, there's the layering for warmth thing. Then there's the fact that I wouldn't have gotten any work done if I had this thing rubbing against my nips all day long."

"I see," I whispered into his ear as I took a brief respite from nibbling on the lobe. The image he'd given me could keep me warm for many nights to come.

"How do I know whether you want me or my turtleneck?"

"There's a very simple way."

"Yeah?"

"You could take it off."

"You asked for it." Ray unfastened and removed his holster, then pulled the turtleneck off over his head. His simple white undershirt followed. It left his hair fluffy and flyaway, cute. But then he put the turtleneck back on, smirking. "Hey, I told you about the nips thing. Oooh, it's as nice as I thought."

I licked my lips. I couldn't help myself.

He all but moaned, "God, what I could do to you, how I would touch you, with this thing... the places on your body I would apply it to... if it wasn't the single most expensive piece of clothing I ever bought. Sorry, Fraser."

My indignant "Ray!" only inspired an evil cackle from him.

After that, it seemed we would face no more stops and starts, no matter how endearing. Ray was ready to go and saw no shame in showing it in his every wanton movement and vocalization, all of which only served to spike my own desire higher. He muttered, "There's proof I didn't plan this; if I had I would have worn jeans with a zipper fly," as I unbuttoned him, palming his hard and straining erection through denim. But his hands proved to be cleverer and faster than my own in unfastening clothing, though I believe I made an excellent showing myself.

However, he hadn't finished playing yet. Once he had my suspenders free, he started to brandish them in a way reminiscent of a weapon. From the devilish look on his face, I had some inkling of what he intended.

"Don't even think of using those suspenders for anything other than their intended purpose."

"Which would be....?" Ray smirked. "I heard once that some aboriginal tribe uses 'em to whip their partners into a sexual frenzy."

"Mmm."

"Ah, now you're interested."

A sudden, unexpected sting against my buttocks drew out an undignified sound from my throat that made Ray grin. From anyone else, it would have been called a yelp.

Unfortunately, I would call the sound I just made a yelp as well.

I would cast aspersions on his attention span had I not realized long ago that most of his whirlwind changes came from an excess of energy. His poor mother must have gone gray around the time he learned to walk. He had the wildness and overly high spirits of a young colt.

He simply needed to run himself out to be tamed.

Of course, in his case a whip and a chair might be necessary tools for me to use on him as well. Oh. Something else to think about later.

"Ray, I might not have involved myself with you in this manner had I realized you utilized sadomasochistic practices."

"Huh? Oh. Nah, I don't do the s&amp;m thing. I just hold and use the whip. No masochism in my practice at all."

Ray dealt me another stinging yet exciting snap as I removed my Henley. However, on his next swing I wrapped up the suspender end in the fabric I'd just removed and yanked his weapon from his hand. My suspenders and Henley flew across the room.

"Oh, crap," he said.

I grabbed him again, but he slithered gracefully down out of my reach, sliding cashmere against my bare skin. It left him on his knees, grinning up at me. He rubbed his head, cat-like, against the tented, slightly parted fabric at my crotch. I groaned.

Few things would be finer than feeling his mouth on me, and he seemed to be inclining in that direction, but, amazingly, that wasn't what I wanted right now. It would be over too quickly, and I wanted to lengthen our insanity somehow. Besides, until now our encounter had been about my helpless reaction to Ray, his presence, his scent, his cashmere, his mercurial whims. It was past time for me to take control.

It didn't matter how hard and ready I was now. I would wait and make him wait simply to show that I could. I hardly wanted to set him leading me around like this as the pattern of our interactions, did I?

Did I?

I would think on it later.

I swiftly crouched down and pushed him to the floor, cradling his head with my arm as he fell. If I moved quickly enough, I might prevent him from foiling my plans.

"What the-- Hey!" he shouted. "On the floor? What, were you raised in a barn?"

"Is that a discriminatory statement against people who were raised in barns?"

"Is that Canadian for 'yes'?"

What we did for a little while after that might have qualified more as wrestling than lovemaking, though I thoroughly enjoyed it. Ray seemed to as well, despite his protests. The cashmere felt even better against my bare chest, and what Ray had said of his nipples held true for mine as well. Once in a while Ray shrieked and growled, "Dammit!" as I found more ticklish spots. I kept discovering tidbits I wanted to make use of later.

"Could you get to it already? I can't wait much longer," Ray panted.

"Patience, Ray--"

"--is overrated!"

I teased him until I could wait no longer, finally freeing him from his jeans and taking him in. He barely managed to control his buck, while his long hands made desperate passes along my shoulders and head. Moaning, he undulated against me in arousing waves as I explored his length with my tongue. He tasted electric somehow. Flushed, sweaty, dazed, sprawled out on the floor under me, he was more than beautiful.

Ray murmured my name over and over until it became another erotic sound. I had him, he was mine, I'd made him this way, a creature made purely of heat, desire, and sound. As he had me, as I was his, as he'd made me this way.... I thrusted against him, the floor, anything, feeling utterly uninhibited.

I felt orgasm start to ripple through him before it finally reached its peak. As he sobbed my name, his cock pulsing in electric waves across my tongue, I achieved orgasm as well in a blinding burst.

When I returned to myself I had my head cradled on Ray's hip and his hand stroking my hair. Aftershocks quivered through his body. They strengthened as I caressed his belly. His sensitivity amazed me as much as his responsiveness. Ray truly seemed to have his nerves closer to the surface than most people did.

I slid up to put his head on my shoulder and slipped my hand under his turtleneck again to pet him. I enjoyed the different feels of cashmere and skin too much to stop. His smile deepened, and he hummed a little under his breath again, looking boneless and conspicuously satisfied. Now that I knew from experience how much he enjoyed being touched by me, a new world opened.

Ray panted, "You... you came just from watching me?"

"Yes. Listening to you and feeling you helped as well."

"Wow."

"Actually, I think your leg helped too."

Ray snorted. "What? My leg? Oh... spoil it, why don't you?" Then Ray sighed. "My leg?"

"I kept your turtleneck spotless. I know how expensive it is."

"They're gonna take away your Mountie license for getting all down and dirty and messy like that."

"Somehow I doubt it."

"And for humping my leg too."

"Absolutely not." Unable to leave well enough alone, as usual, I added, "Your leg was humping me."

Ray spluttered. "It's all my fault?"

"Everything is."

"Good thing I'm up for the responsibility." He sighed and rubbed his hair against my shoulder, making me shiver. "I have to tell ya: as much as it embarrasses me to think that my landlady listens to me dance, it embarrasses the hell out of me to think she might have heard all that carrying on we did. I mean, the carrying on doesn't embarrass me, just what she might think of it."

"I enjoyed all the noise."

"And the banging against the floor?"

"Especially the banging against the floor. Although, strictly speaking, I don't know if what we did actually qualifies as 'banging.'"

Ray's jaw dropped. "I'm taking the date down. You just gave me rock solid proof that ya know slang and have a dirty mind. This is one for the record books."

"I will disavow any knowledge of it should you mention it in public."

"'Sokay. I know, and that's enough."

"Your landlady didn't realize you were dancing up here until I suggested it to her. Perhaps she'll misinterpret this as well."

"Yeah, she'll think someone broke in and mauled me." Ray gasped as my fingers circled his nipple. "What's with that smirk on your face? Aside from the fact you have me totally under your power here."

"Must there be another reason?"

"Hell, yeah."

"I'm pondering your sexual technique."

"You're the one who took us down to the floor."

"Indeed. Rather, I'm pondering the stop-and-start methodology. It suggests a short attention span."

"It's called 'teasing,' Fraser."

"I think they have medication for your problem, Ray."

"I'm not the only loony banana in the bin here. I'm sure they have medication for your problems too."

I felt him tense under my hand and heard a hint of defensiveness in his answer, so I brought the conversation back to something more agreeable. I meant no criticism. I deepened my stroking a bit. "I enjoyed it when it didn't annoy me. It's... unique."

Ray relaxed again. "'Course it is."

"I'm wondering how you came by it."

Without even a second's hesitation, Ray answered, "Raised by wolves."

"I'm sure your parents would be surprised to hear that."

"Oh, they know. They found me on a park bench and took me in. But I was mostly raised by wolves, yah."

"Chicago park wolves?"

"They're famous. Huh, look at you, Mr. Doubting Thomas. I'm sure your Inuits have all sorts of stories about that."

"About Chicago parks?"

Ray stretched, managing to look even more boneless, sated. It made me feel very smug. He must have been thinking along similar lines, because he said, "That was real nice. _Real_ nice. Only one thing would make this perfect."

"Yes?"

"Lying down on something that's _not_ the floor. I have my back to think about."

"Unless I paralyzed you, I see nothing stopping you from standing up."

"You're really good but not that good. I just can't have my chest stroked and stand up at the same time."

"You should work on that."

"You wanna help me practice?"

 

### End


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